Tuna Melt – @YC, E Taylor St, San Jose, CA

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@YC cafe is a coffee house, one of those numbers that’s tucked into the corner of a block of new condos. It really seems like espresso and pastries are the focus, but there’s a half dozen or so sandwiches on rge menu. Breakfast sandwiches seem to be the specialty, but I wasn’t really in rge mood for eggs. So, figuring I might be degrees of separation from the specialties, I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I ordered the tuna melt, the proprieter asked me if I wanted cucumber and onion included, and I settled in.

Some time ago I wondered just how much impact context had on sandwich quality, and that’s a question that comes up again with this tuna melt. Contextually, it had two things going for it. The first was rgw aforementioned uncertainty, and the second was that it was a cold, rainy afternoon. A grilled sandwich on a day like that is pretty much the definition of “hit the spot,” isn’t it? So with those two things going for it, I was pretty darn pleased with this sandwich. Canned tuna, some cheddar cheese but nothing special, a bit of cucumber and onion, @YC seemed to have made a pretty good something out of not much. It was warm, cheesy, buttery, crunchy goodness, and I don’t think I could have asked for much more.

Pork Awesomeness™ – Rookies Sports Lodge, Meridian Ave, San Jose, CA

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Rookies is the kind of establishment that serves a sandwiched named the Pork Awesomeness™ (the ™ is theirs, naturally, not mine.) The Pork Awesomeness™, in turn, is the kind of sandwich you find at a place like Rookies. You’ve all been to such an establishment. The walls boast all manner of decoration and sports paraphernalia, the wall behind the bar is covered in currency that’s been decorated by patrons, the beer comes in mugs the size of a small boot. Though this is not my preferred type of establishment, I do not offer this description as an insult. No bar ends up like this by accident; it is a cultivated image, a cultivated atmosphere, above all else it is deliberate. And, of course, the way that this deliberate effort manifests in sandwiches is via excess. A fair number of sandwiches come with the top half of the bread to the side, but very few of them will leave you at a loss as to how the come together. But that’s what I found at Rookies, as a pile of meat tilted away from two thick slices of toast. Two breaded and fried pork cutlets, a few slices of ham, a few slices of bacon, and a fried egg. Pork upon pork upon pork, with an egg. 

I was able to put together something resembling a sandwich, and for all of that the eating wasn’t tremendously difficult. That said, it wasn’t tremendously rewarding either. This connects to the point I made in the previous post, about harmony. Rather than unwelcome levels of contrast, what this sandwich presents is too many items working far too close together. All the flavors are playing on the roughly the same level, and that’s not a recipe for success. The sandwich wasn’t terrible, but it was flat. Dense and chewy, rich in fat and gaining even further richness from the fried egg, for all of its excess and LOOK AT ME attitude it was dull. It’s as if a six-piece band formed, only everyone plays the bass guitar and nothing but the bass guitar. That might make an interesting concert, but it almost certainly won’t make a good one.

Salsiccia – Speedy Panini, San Francisco Bay Area Food Truck

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Despite a few mediocre experiences with local food trucks, I continue to try my luck. The latest is Speedy Panini, a truck boasting gourmet Italian sandwiches. The Salsiccia is a fairly straightforward number, with spicy sausage, roasted bell peppers, and pecorino cheese on a small ciabata roll. I have no gripe with a simple sandwich, after all, there’s less there that can go wrong. Nothing went quite wrong with Speedy Panini, but this sandwich wasn’t everything it could be, and the reason why perfectly illustrates the issue with contrast. People will often say they look for contrast in a sandwich: something sweet with something savory, something rich with something spicy, something crisp with something chewy. Those are all fine pairs, but to call it contrast is to miss the mark. They may in fact contrast, but what you should really be after is harmony. You don’t want different things so much as you want different things that work together. The issue with this sandwich was that while the sausage was nice and hot, the peppers were quite cold. Perhaps some people would find that appealing, but not me. That’s a bit of contrast I can do without. Aside from that, though, the sandwich was quite good. The bread was especially choice, crisp on the outside and chewy throughout. The sausage was quite spicy, which I like but may turn off others. The cheese was present but far from overwhelming. It wasn’t a perfect sandwich, but few are, and I didn’t walk away from this truck disappointed.

Broccoli Sandwich – Made at Home

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I hold broccoli in very high esteem. It has a bright, earthy flavor, it’s really quite good for you, and I like it a whole bunch. I am far from alone in this, and when one of my associates suggested a broccoli sandwich I immediately set to work. After thinking on it a while, what I eventually settled on was not to build a sandwich around straight broccoli. That’s a challenge for another day. For a first attempt at a broccoli sandwich I brought along quite a bit of support. Firstly, I put cooked broccoli florets in the food processor, chopping them well but not to mince. I mixed the chopped broccoli up with a quinoa/brown rice mix, some breadcrumbs, and an egg. This mix I fashioned into patties, which were then put into a hot skillet until both sides were crispy and brown. I built two sandwiches around the patties, both with a few slices of salami and caramelized onions. One sandwich got a few slices of cheddar cheese, and the other a fried egg. It will come as a surprise to no one that the sandwich with a fried egg was much better, but there are plenty of times when one wants a sandwich without going to the trouble of frying an egg, and I wanted to get a sense of the sandwich in that context. Regardless of the egg’s superiority, these were both very tasty sandwiches. The broccoli patty was crunchy, the grains rounding out the flavor to something a bit deeper, more nuanced. The salami was a bit lost in the rest of the things, but between the patty, the sweet onions, and the richness of the egg I didn’t miss it. In the other sandwich the salami was a bit more noticeable, and the cheese was present but didn’t overwhelm the broccoli. For a first attempt at a broccoli sandwich, I would say this was a rousing success. There are other, more daring broccoli sandwiches to be made, but it was hard not to be satisfied with this attempt.

The Special – The Freshly Baked Eatery, N 3rd St, San Jose, CA

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As I stood in The Freshly Baked Eatery and considered my options, an employee behind the counter held up a just-sliced length of sourdough bread. “Fresh and hot,” he told me, “ready to go!” I’m not usually one to rush to order, but bread so fresh as to literally be steaming waits for no man. I spied the words “The Special” and “Sausage” and told the man I’d have that. The Special turned out to be custom sausage (said to be a combination of German, Polish, and Yugoslav cooked in beer), and Swiss cheese, served on sourdough with a crispy crust and a wonderfully chewy interior. Naturally, I got “everything” on it, so it also included mayonnaise, dijon mustard, lettuce, tomato, and red onion. I know I’ve complained about iceberg in the past, but here it played as part of a larger ensemble and I would rank it at unobjectionable. The sausage was plenty tasty, with a unique peppery flavor reminiscent of any number of sausages you’ve had before. There was enough Swiss that you could tell it was there, but not so much as to overwhelm anything. Almost everything about this sandwich was done right, but there was one big issue that nearly derailed everything.

Having been poached in beer, the sausage had a tough casing that couldn’t be snapped by the pressure of an average bite. As a result, taking one bite often meant pulling the whole of the sausage with it. Then you have to try to grab on to it with your fingers and stuff it back in to the sandwich, or rotate the whole thing around and see if your eye teeth are up to the task of slicing through, or just give up, eat the sausage, and then deal with what is essentially a cheese sandwich. None of these options are satisfactory, and simply searing the sausages off in a pan before they’re poached eliminates this problem, as the outside becomes crispy and gives easily to the bite. I’m not quite certain what The Freshly Baked Eatery’s setup is, I know they bake their own bread and roast their own meats, but perhaps there are no actual burners involved. If that’s the case, I would advise them to can the subtle beer flavor and bake the sausage. In any case, equipment limitations and my advice and neither here nor there; ultimately this sandwich just wasn’t everything it could have been. The bread was really quite good, though, and given the fine flavors and balance displayed in the rest of the sandwich, it was still quite enjoyable. Perfect sandwiches are few and far between, and I suspect had I gone with the spicy salami or the garlic herb turkey I wouldn’t have had much about which to complain.

The Wahler – Los Gatos Brewing Company, W Santa Clara St, San Jose, CA

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The Wahler appears on the menu at Los Gatos Brewing company with a bit of a coy description. “Something YUMMY.” it reads, “Don’t believe us? Try one!” Needless to say, this had me intrigued. I usually hope to have as little input as possible in a sandwich someone else is making; as I’ve said before, I want exactly what they have to offer. I find it delightful that not only are there establishments that are happy to do just that, but there are establishments so confident in their wares that they’ll do so without even telling you what’s there. I ordered the Wahler without hesitation. The waitress asked if I wanted to know what was in it, and I assured her I did not. If someone has that much confidence in their sandwich, I wish to take them at their word. Friends, the mystery sandwich did not disappoint. A soft ciabatta roll held tender sliced roast beef, crispy onion strings, pickles, tomatoes, aioli, and a tomato-based sauce. The sauce was sweet enough to stand up to the savory beef, and the pickles cut through things with a bit of salt and sour. Balanced in both taste and texture, the Wahler was as delightful in execution as it was in concept, and that’s a rare combination.

Fried Catfish Po Boy – The Louisiana Territory, San Francisco Bay Area

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The Louisiana Territory is another Bay Area food truck, and their Po Boy is a fairly standard offering: Fried catfish, lettuce, tomatoes, special sauce. All of that is perfectly satisfactory, the fish is moist and the sauce, bearing a strong resemblance to tartar sauce, pairs nicely. It was a tasty number, and I want to be perfectly clear about that. This was tasty. Here’s what it wasn’t: A sandwich. Let us return briefly to August of 2009, and our review of the now-closed Hank’s Eats:

The idea of what is and is not a sandwich comes down to the obvious and the intent. The obvious is the precious few simple qualifications that must be met, namely bread on the top and the bottom and some other ingredient in the middle. The intent is what makes it a sandwich and what ends up disqualifying the Porky’s Revenge. In order to be a sandwich the intent must be for the food to be eaten aligned horizontally. It is in this that we find sandwiches in harmony with our mouths and indeed our larger selves. It is in this that we find each bite encompassing the sum total of the ingredients in the sandwich, all of them represented in their proper proportions. It is in this that a sandwich becomes a sandwich.

It might not be clear from the photo, but the bread for the Louisiana Territory’s Po Boy isn’t sliced horizontally. It isn’t sliced at all. The loaf is hollowed out to a thin crust, then filled with ingredients. Now, I’m going to get a bit pedantic here, and if other people aren’t willing to join me I hold no grudge. That said: Whether this is or isn’t a sandwich is not just an academic distinction. In filling a hollowed out roll, everything is to be mixed together. You construct a salad, then stuff that salad into a casing. A sandwich, as we all know, is constructed in layers. A big part of what matters is what I mentioned above, that each bite (ideally) contains the sum total of the sandwich. A great many sandwiches do not meet this ideal, but similar to serving a sandwich with a fork in it, to stuff a roll with a salad is to surrender without even making an attempt. The torta I had recently at Casita Chilanga didn’t feature a bit of everything in every bite, but it is intention that makes that an honest failure and this a sin. The mixture at Casita results from an abundance of starring ingredients and enthusiasm. Here you’ve just got catfish and friends, all thrown together, taking your chances. You surrender all control over the arranged presentation of ingredients. If that’s the choice an establishment makes that’s their business, I simply ask that they not sully the good name of sandwiches with the lackadaisical attitude.

Peanut Butter Six Ways – Made at Home

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This is the 200th sandwich review here at On Sandwiches, and I wanted something special to mark the occasion. a lot of things were considered and ultimately rejected: treks to especially expensive or ostentatious sandwiches, eating challenges. No, on this occasion I’d like to talk about the sandwich I eat most frequently: The peanut butter sandwich. It sometimes surprises people to learn this, but it’s true. More often than not I find myself, with no small amount of pleasure, enjoying two humble pieces of bread with a bit of peanut butter in the middle. I don’t go quite as crazy for them as I used to (I must confess that for a time I was consuming upwards of six per day) but they have a very special place in my heart. So, for the 200th review here at On Sandwiches, I present the peanut butter sandwich, six ways. Continue reading →

Short Rib Grilled Cheese — Four Cafe, Colorado Blvd., Los Angeles

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It is safe to say that the making of a sandwich into a “______ grilled cheese” or “grilled cheese ________” is, in most instances in 2012, a tawdry gimmick. The “gourmet grilled cheese” sandwich has been played out to the point of near-absurdity in recent years, with many a food truck, sandwich counter, and would-be fine-dining establishment endeavoring to put on airs and reach a clientele by offering an approachable item under the pretense that their sandwich is a Michelin-star spin on the ubiquitous and universal grilled cheese. Usually, these offerings are nothing more than a grilled cheese sandwich with a bunch of “unusual” ingredients thrown in, merely for the sake of things. There is rarely thought involved beyond, “Wouldn’t it be interesting if a grilled cheese sandwich included ______.” The answer these establishments don’t want to hear, however, is that it usually isn’t.

This is all a long-winded means of introduction to a sandwich that is anything but a gimmick. The short rib grilled cheese from Four Cafe is a grilled cheese sandwich only by the default of the literal interpretation of its method of preparation. This sandwich was an endless delight, and would have been none more so had the appending “grilled cheese” been stripped from the board altogether. The pulled and braised beef short ribs were flavorful and moist, but pleasingly firm. The red onions, softened by the grilling, added a pleasing, but not overwhelming snap and brought a welcome addition to the flavor palate. The gruyere cheese was the perfect component to fasten everything together and add texture and oil to the endeavor. The focaccia bread was the perfect container and was indeed grilled to perfection. It all added up to a sandwich that was a true delight to savor.

If the sandwich had a fault — and I don’t believe it did — it would be that the ingredients of the sandwich were purported to include horseradish, although none was significantly detectable. It may have been overwhelmed by the gruyere, or it may have become a part of the short rib. Either way, its presence was not missed in the slightest.

This item is a part of the Winter Menu at Four Cafe. I will do everything in my power to sample it again in the coming weeks, for fear that it will no longer be on offer when the spring rolls around.

Braised Short Rib – Little Chef Counter, N San Pedro Sq, San Jose, CA

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Little Chef Counter is part of San Jose’s San Pedro Square Market, a bid to create something of a public square in downtown San Jose. It sits to one side of a large open room, surrounded by other similar establishments and with little to it but a kitchen and a counter. I mean similar establishments in that they also sell food, because I would speculate that when it comes to quality Little Chef Counter is in a class of its own. Simply put, this is the best non-ethnic sandwich I’ve had in San Jose. That’s not an attempt to damn with faint praise, it’s just that most of San Jose’s stand out sandwiches are of the bánh mì or torta variety. There’s plenty of competition with standard American fare, though, and Little Chef Counter comes out pretty far ahead of any sandwich I’ve had thus far. The sandwich is braised short rib, crispy onions, a horseradish slaw and a cheese sauce. The short rib is juicy and flavorful, a succulent, tender base for the rest of the sandwich. The slaw is crunchy and has plenty of zing via the horseradish, the it joins the fresh fried onions as a wonderfully crispy counter to the texture of the  short rib. Layered on the bread under the short rib, the cheese sauce is rich but never overwhelming, in no risk of drowning out the other ingredients. I have nothing but praise to offer this sandwich; it’s wonderfully balanced and tremendously flavorful. Little Chef Counter may be a sparse in appearance, but the sandwich they put together was a grand success.